


A Touch Of Culture

by Ningikuga



Category: Atop the Fourth Wall, That Guy with the Glasses/Channel Awesome
Genre: Gen, Pets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 16:21:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4398905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ningikuga/pseuds/Ningikuga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Linkara confronts Doctor Insano about his most recent robotic attack and discovers his latest biological experiment instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Touch Of Culture

**Author's Note:**

> For [this prompt](http://tgwtg-meme.livejournal.com/1329.html?thread=1740849#t1740849) on the LJ TGWTG kinkmeme. Despite that, it's not very kinky. :-)
> 
> This work is intended to depict characters/personae, not real people, and absolutely no implications about the people who write and play those characters are intended or should be inferred.

The crash from outside shook several trade paperbacks off the shelves. Linkara and Harvey didn’t even bother asking; they each grabbed their usual firearms and charged for the door.

A chunk of asphalt barely missed them, taking out the privet hedge beside the entrance instead. ‘90s Kid skidded to a stop behind them, BFG in hand. “Whoa, dude,” he murmured, “is that a robot gorilla?”

“Looks like it,” Linkara agreed. “Fortunately, it’s not even a giant robot. I’m honestly a little offended that someone thought that would get anywhere against us.”

“Let’s keep it from ripping up the whole parking lot before we start with the whole ego thing,” Harvey suggested. “Looks like the superintendent’s pickup is already the worse for wear.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Linkara agreed. “I’ll go left; Harvey, you go right and take the first shot to distract it, since if it’s armored it’s more likely to be immune to bullets than energy weapons; ’90’s Kid, go in straight and then hit the deck - see if you can get it from a low angle with that thing.” His associates nodded; Linkara cocked the magic gun and smirked. “Ready? One, two, three!”

\---

Linkara shot out the lock and kicked the lab door open, since both his hands were occupied. He didn’t bother introducing himself, or calling out his enemy’s name; they both knew who they were, and he was too annoyed to spare the breath for it. Instead, he strode into the center of the lab, tossing the severed and smoking head of the robot gorilla onto the only empty table. He threw his head back and puffed out his chest, about to demand an explanation.

Insano was nowhere in sight.

Exhaling, Linkara glanced around the lab. It had been redecorated since the last time he’d been there; the current aesthetic was something closer to “1950s B-movie college science classroom” than “Victor von Frankenstein’s den of forbidden meddling in God’s domain.” Honestly, it was a remarkably uncluttered look for Insano, despite the racks of test tubes filled with cloudy pastel liquids and the cat and pig skeletons mounted against the wall.

Something moved over by the window. Linkara picked his way around two tables piled high with clean, empty petri dishes and a refrigerator; before he could see past the steaming autoclave on the next table, a small pink blur bounced in front of him, blocking the way. “Riki-tiki!” the little round anemonoid demanded.

“Oh, hi, Son of Insano,” Linkara said, slightly embarrassed. He never knew what to say to his arch-enemy’s tiny, unnatural offspring. “Is, um, Is Doctor Insano around?”

“Rik-tiki-ti!”

Linkara was about to ask him to go get his father when he heard another noise and smelled - what was that? It smelled like cut grass and something else. “What’s over there?” he asked instead.

“Oh, look,” said a very dry voice from the doorway, “my arch-enemy has shown up while my lab is completely undefended, has destroyed an unlocked door, and is menacing a child less than a tenth his mass. Brilliant work, hero.”

“Doctor Insano!” Linkara shouted, trying to get back on script. “Your measly attempt on my life has been thwarted! I’ve brought back all that’s left of your gorilla death-bot!”

“My what?” Insano covered the distance from the door to the sparking mechanical head in a few strides. “Oh, dear,” he said, poking at a few severed wires. “This isn’t mine, Linkara. Surely you realize I’d use better connectors than these off-the-shelf Radio Shack parts?”

Linkara shrugged. “They’ve been on clearance lately, and neither one of us is exactly made of money.” The rest of Insano’s statement sank in, and he blinked. “Wait, you didn’t send it? And why is your automated defense system off?”

“I honestly don’t think I’d have been able to resist crafting it into either a King Kong or Donkey Kong reference if I had, just to annoy Spoony,” Insano admitted. “This looks more realistic, and far too small for a genius of my stature.” He set it back on the table.

Linkara’s shoulders slumped. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath, “I was sure it was yours. It’s not magical, and all of the tech is reasonably native to this time and this universe. That lets out Vice, and most of the rest of my recurring villains, except maybe Mechakara.” 

“Or that pale hypertime echo of me you keep on your payroll,” Insano suggested. “Maybe he got bored with your ship’s toys.”

“Even if he were backsliding,” Linkara argued, “his inventions usually show pretty obvious influences from his home universe and their technology ...” He was interrupted by a bleating noise from behind the autoclave. “What _is_ that?” he asked, exasperated. “That’s the second time I’ve heard -”

“Riki-tik!” the pink being exclaimed, squeezing its eyes closed and bouncing gently.

“A _what_?” Linkara responded. Sure enough, behind the lab’s dishwasher and disinfectant was a square of floor six feet on a side, penned off with chain-link fencing and lined with hay. In one corner was a small goat, happily chewing on the remains of a watermelon rind.

“A goat,” Linkara repeated, staring at it. 

Its coat was a deep burnt umber, nearly black at the ears and hooves, with a splotch of silvery grey on its belly and udders. It glanced at him, clearly decided he wasn’t going to feed it, and turned its attention back to the remains of the watermelon.

Linkara cleared his throat. “Insano,” he said, slowly and clearly, “why is there a goat in your laboratory? And please don’t give me the line about which part of the name ‘Insano’ I don’t get.”

The scientist sighed. “Well,” he explained, “it’s why the defense grid is off, and it started as an educational project.”

“For you?” Linkara asked, then realized, “For your son here.”

“Tikiiii,” the pink polyp agreed, looking pleased that Linkara had figured that out on his own.

“My son wanted a pet,” Insano said, “and I didn’t want to get a dog because they’re too high-maintenance, plus we’ve already got Spoony’s mutt hanging about. Cats and glassware are a bad mix. If I was going to put up with an animal around, it needed to be one that my son would learn something valuable from, if only how to care for another organism. I was going to get a lab rat, but he talked me into going to a petting zoo on our father-son outing one weekend, and one of the nanny goats had just weaned two kids, and Arginine here was just so adorable, so I stole her instead.” He frowned and glanced up at the windows. “Spoony won’t let her graze in the yard,” he complained. “Says it’s against the zoning regulations here and we could get in trouble. I offered to make a cloaking collar for her, but he refused to be reasonable about it, so she’s been living down here most of the time.”

Crouching, Linkara returned the magic gun to its holster and poked a finger through the wire netting of the pen. The nanny goat looked up from the last few bites of melon rind and licked at his fingertip. “I’d have thought she wouldn’t get enough exercise that way,” he murmured.

“She probably isn’t getting an ideal amount,” Insano admitted. “There’s a treadmill in the utility room; we take her for a good trot on that twice a day.”

Linkara stood up and wiped his hand on his vest. “Couldn’t you, I don’t know, disguise her as a dog? I mean, it might still look a little strange, a dog eating grass, but as long as she stayed in Spoony’s yard, I doubt anyone would call the housing association on you.”

Insano looked startled; his eyebrows showed for a moment above the goggles. “That’s . . . actually, that might work.” He cocked his head slightly. “A simple holographic projection - yes, that’s more than doable.”

“Riki, rikki, ikki!” Son of Insano bounced off the table and into Linkara’s chest; he managed to catch the pink sphere, and suddenly realized he was being given a hug by its tendrils. Carefully, Linkara hugged the small life-form back and set him back on the table.

“Hmm, perhaps,” Insano mused. He patted the pink ball on the head and swept past Linkara. “After all, she’s been the source for one of our most successful microbiology experiments.”

“Wait,” Linkara blurted, “microbiology? Are you using her as a carrier for bioweapons?”

Insano gave him a blank look. “While I will admit, that was one of the possible reasons I was considering a rat,” he sighed, “Arginine is too large and too specialized an organism for that. Anything that would be an effective biological agent for humans would eventually either sicken her or dangerously weaken her immune system.” One corner of his mouth curled up. “And that would upset my son immensely. He’s grown even more attached to her than I expected.”

Linkara scratched his head. “Then how is a full-grown goat a microbiology experiment?”

“She provides us with fresh samples of high-nutrient growth medium twice a day,” Insano said, opening the refrigerator. The interior was stuffed with petri dishes, beakers, and what looked like jam jars with the labels removed, all filled with white substances in varying stages of viscosity. Insano spun one around and held the label up to his goggles. “Ah, no, too fresh,” he muttered.

“Oh,” Linkara said quietly, glancing down at the side of the pen. Sure enough, by the wall there were two galvanized pails hanging upside-down on a hook. Well, it was a nanny goat, and Insano’s emotional soft spots did have limits; he’d have to find some practical use for her.

Insano pulled out a smaller flask and shut the refrigerator door and removed a bit of plastic wrap from the top. “This one’s a three-day-old culture that had honey and just a touch of vanilla added after the initial twelve-hour incubation,” he announced. “Would you care to sample it?”

Something tugged on Linkara’s sleeve. He looked down and saw Son of Insano dragging a spoon across the lab bench.

“Uh, sure,” Linkara said slowly. “Just - let me check something really quick.” He reached in one pocket, flipped open a tricorder, and glanced down at the readings.

“Really, Linkara,” Insano grumbled, “if I were trying to poison you, I wouldn’t do it in front of witnesses, much less my own child.”

“You can’t be too careful,” Linkara replied. The tricorder readings were clean enough; he took the offered spoon and beaker and carefully took a bite. It wasn’t bad, actually, although the mouthfeel was wetter than he’d expected. “It’s a little tart,” he noted aloud, “but I think you’ve got the balance between the honey and the vanilla down okay.”

“Excellent!” Insano shouted, grabbing for a notebook and scribbling furiously. “Spoony’s gotten so tired of yogurt, he won’t sample them for us anymore. I had to start making him smoothies to get him to taste any of it at all.”

Son of Insano bounced and purred happily. The goat looked up, noticed him bobbing around, and added a bleat of her own.

Linkara handed the empty beaker back. “Well, sorry to barge in like that,” he apologized. “I’ll just head back to the ship, then.”

“Wait.” Insano held up one hand. “Let me scan your cybertronic ape head before you make your craven escape from my lair. If there’s another crazed roboticist out there, I’d like to know exactly how inferior to me they are.” He glanced aside at his son and the goat, both of whom seemed to be looking at him expectantly. “And, you know, if there’s anything terribly unusual, I could send your inferior imitation of me a note on it. Just to give you a fighting chance against whoever it is.”

“Sure.” Linkara hoisted the remains of the robot up as Insano ran a device with entirely too many blinking lights around the cybernetic cranium. “Just beam your results to the ship directly; it can interpret just about any format.”

“Of course,” Insano replied, plugging the detector into a slot in the wall; a panel slid back to display a monitor busily assembling a 3-D image of the robot’s head. “Oh, and would you like a few other samples to take with you? I’ve been working on maple and blueberry flavors.”

“Maybe next time,” Linkara assured him, waving to Son of Insano and Arginine and heading for the no-longer-smoking door.

“I have lemon, too, if you’d prefer,” Insano suggested. “Or I could whip up some orange; there’s an unflavored batch I should do something with soon.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Linkara called back, then whispered to his watch, “Nimue, get me out of here.”

“Wait, hold on a moment, you haven’t even tried any of the frozen yogurt!” Insano shouted, reaching for the fridge door as Linkara hastily teleported out.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is also loosely inspired by a Tumblr friend who recently lost her pet goat to illness, and when she posted about it, was hassled by an anon fartbag asking whether she'd slaughtered and eaten her. If I could send Insano to explain the fine points of the care and feeding of a nanny goat to said fartbag at laser-point, I would, no questions asked.


End file.
